


Immortal Knight of the Old Republic

by Omegasaber



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, star war
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 06:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4866578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omegasaber/pseuds/Omegasaber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History will soon take a turn from its pre-set course for the Old Republic as a man from the ancient past of Humanity returns and changes the galaxy forever. Whether for better or worse, is yet to be seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immortal Knight of the Old Republic

**Author's Note:**

> A single planet could only ever hold so much for a man who lives forever, and a man can only stand in the wings for so long before he yearns for centre stage once again, whether he knows better or not. And as Methos is fond of saying, the only thing you can strive to do is Live, Grow Stronger and Fight Another Day.

Arc 1/1 – Live, Grow Stronger, Fight Another Day 

The Fall of Earth 6000AD / 200,000 BBY

Humanity had advanced far and achieved much in its time on the Earth. In recent times, Humanity as a whole had re-organized itself into one central government under the name the Zhell Alliance, named after its founder Hobart Zhell. The different fields of medicine and technology had come farther than many ever thought would be possible after 5 devastating World Wars, alongside countless other conflicts.

But despite all the wonders that man had uncovered, the secrets of faster than light travel remained an impossible goal. Alongside such dreams as teraforming and cryo-sleep, the keys to being able to colonise other planets, humanity had been left withonly Earth as a home.

However, one discovery that the majority of the world never expected was the discovery of immortals. Although they were extremely reclusive and identifying and tracking them proved next to impossible, their existence had been proven. Despite everything not known about them, one thing was known. The source of immortality, the metaphorical fountain of youth, the quickening. It was unknown how it caused a person to become a pre-immortal, but scientists had discovered that it was not an energy that was exclusive to immortals, but was present in everything, adding to the difficulty in finding immortals. For some strange reason, this background energy pooled inside a pre-immortal to extremely high levels, allowing them to attain immortality when it was activated by a violent death.

What the world did'nt, and could'nt know, was that they were being watched, and that the last days of humanity residing on the earth were at hand.

-Methos POV-Methos POV-

Methos thought that it was rather ironic that at the end, a man who had always tried to avoid looking to his own past such as him would do exactly that. He supposed it was his brains way of trying to figure out how it all came to this.

He had worn many names and many titles over the years of his existence, some good, some bad, those he took for himself, and those that others had bestowed upon him. But the name and title that he commonly went by, if the 10 or so people who actually knew who he was counted as commonly, was Methos, oldest of the immortals and 5,000 year old man. Never mind that he had been claiming that title since way back in his arrogant youth, near the start of his horsemen days, sometime around 1,000 BC. He found it amusing how few people worked out that particular inaccuracy. He enjoyed these titles in his own way, even enjoyed that there were those alive, however few, who know his real name and could associate it with him.

Another title he enjoyed that was actually true was secret keeper. This was a title that he treasured, because there was one secret, above all others, that he planned to never allow to see the light of day. A secret that, to ensure its safety, he had broken it into three parts.

And that was the secret that had started the whole mess he was currently in, because in contradiction of what he thought and his own self appointed title and duty, he was not the only one to have discovered ithis terrible truth. Worse still, the other was an immortal who had the stupidity to allow himself to be bested by a young, at least to him, upstart of an immortal and lose his quickening, along with the secret, to someone foolish enough to act upon it.

That secret was the oldest he knew of and the one most relevant to immortals. It was the secret of how to control and manipulate the quickening that every immortal possesses, and more than that still. With only that knowledge he probably could have dealt with the whole affair quickly enough. But it was joined with the knowledge that the gathering, the final battle between all the immortals for the 'prize', an unknown reward for the last man standing alongside the accumulated power of all the immortals, wouldn't happen naturally at some point as almost all assumed. It had to be triggered by a sufficiently powerful immortal using the control of their quickening. And unfortunately the idiot in possession of this secret qualified, if barely.

The final part of this great secret, the part that would make any sane immortal turn away from the gathering forever, was what every immortal wanted to know, and that is what the prize was. He had never told anyone, but discovering that final part had been a large part of what had shocked him out of his stupidity and prompted him to leave the horsemen. As far as he could tell, immortals were an anomaly in the Universe. The energy that makes up their quickening should never have gathered together in only certain individuals the way it had. This meant that should humanity ever truly make it to the stars, human immortals would be alone in their immortality, a lonely concept by any stretch of the imagination. He didn't know why it was these energies had developed the way they had, but from what he could gather from tests conducted on the moon and even mars, Earth was the only planet it occurred on. And that would end with the gathering. That was part of the prize. The Immortal who 'won' would acquire the entirety of the quickening energy from all immortals, an energy that exponentially grew with age within every immortal as long as no-one had won. That was why the older immortals were hunted so zealously when they were found.

The immortal that claimed the prize would have access to a huge store of power, likely allowing even the regeneration of limbs given enough time, but the shifting of so much energy would break the balance. From the moment the prize was claimed, no more immortals would be born, and all that quickening energy would again spread evenly among the population instead of gathering in the few.

But to him, probably the person with the best perspective to comment on it, such a lonely, never ending prize was hardly a prize at all. He had lived for 12,000 years to his best estimate, buried more wives, adopted children, friends, even whole tribes than he cared to count. He was barely keeping himself interested and sane enough to continue interacting with the world around him. But this idiot who had discovered these secrets didn't have the wisdom that came with age to see that.

And so, at the start of the year 6,000 AD, to begin his 'new age', the gathering was called. The information on how that immortal had gained the knowledge was all second hand, gained from the quickening of the fallen, as thankfully he had been taken out quickly by those more experienced. But by that time the damage had been done. The gathering had been called and that couldn't be reversed. Despite the call of the gathering tugging him inexorably to the final battle of immortals, Methos had managed to resist at the start. He hadn't the heart to fight his friends, his family really, but he knew that if he went the frenzy of so many quickenings running through his veins would drive him to fight.

So he found a nice mountain at the opposite end of the globe from the gathering and hunkered down, recommending something similar to his friends. He lived with the futile hope that if they held out long enough then the gathering would end unresolved, and they could continue on as before. What a fool he had been. There were none apart from him with the experience or strength to resist the call. He had watched from afar, felt as each of his friends, gathered over millennia, and forged into family by trials and time, fell to the blade of another.

It took a month to get to that point, and the world had noticed long before. There were more immortals than anyone had ever expected, both old and young, those who had hidden away or just never been discovered. A month of storms, tremors and fires caused by the releasing of quickenings both huge and small had destabilized the planet. It produced natural disasters across the globe, and a growing super storm above the gathering place that threatened to erupt at any moment. The people of the World dared not interfere for fear of the energy erupting.

McCleod, the Highlander, his old Boy Scout of a friend, brother in all but blood, had been the last to fall. If it had been McCleod who had stood as the last then Methos may have even offered his head freely, knowing that the right man had won, if there had to be a winner. But those without honour had ganged up on him, ignoring the rules of the challenge in their blood-lust and using underhanded means to take down one who would never stoop to their level. And that was when his restraint snapped.

When he arrived at the lightning and fire ravaged gathering place, those few hundred who remained learned why he had held back, why he hadn't felt the need to learn more on fighting in a long, long time. And finally they learned why it should have been McCleod who won. Because although his memory was honoured as best as Methos could allow himself during the fight, they learned the meaning of what it meant to fight with everything a person has, with only survival and victory in mind. They came at him again and again, the defeated piling up wherever he went, until he had slain them all but one.

By the middle of the second month, it had come down to just him and one other. He could feel the quickening energy in the air, could see that to fight that one last battle would ignite a storm that would likely wipe out humanity. He knew he should run, run and not look back till the earth had healed enough for the energy release, even if it drove him insane to resist. But by that point, even he with all his gathered strength wasn't strong enough to resist the pull, that call of what he could now tell was two halves of the same energy. It was like two poles of a magnet calling to each other, begging to be united.

And so he fought, with everything he had, and although the fight was intense and the other immortal rivaled him in quickening power by that point, he won. There was nothing that could be done about 12,000 years of fighting experience, gotten first hand and not just partially inherited along with a quickening. As he stood there, knowing he had won, that the 'prize' was his, he didn't stand triumphantly as the ultimate survivor. He didn't shout to all who would hear that he was victorious; he fell on his knees and cried. Cried for all those who had died both by his hand and by others, a needless waste when they could have continued on as a race forever. He cried because he was old, so very old, and tired and because he was the last of his kind, doomed to an immortal loneliness.

The brief moment that it had taken his mind to scroll through this, and through his whole life, was over far too quickly. The quickening, that final, massive, terrifying quickening fell. And it broke him, it broke the planet and from where he stood, it looked to Methos as if it had broken even the sky. He had one last glimpse of the stars, those singular comforts of something older than even him, as the lightning blasted a hole in the storm overhead head before he blacked out and was swallowed by a fissure in the Earth. There to rest until someone found his lonely sanctuary on a soon to be lifeless world.

-Third Person POV-Third Person POV-

At a safe distance from the planet Earth, hidden by technology and mastery of the force beyond anything humanity had dreamed of, there floated a gargantuan ship of incredible design belonging to an ancient, well travelled race called the Celestials. They had detected an unusual and unique build up of force energy and had been investigating this anomaly for several hundred years. Although an extremely long lived species in their own right, they were still fascinated by the possibility of immortality, as almost every race foolishly is at one point or another.

They witnessed the devastation that was being wrought upon the planet below as these immortals battled each other, sending waves of energy into the force that almost blinded those sensitive to it, who didn't carefully shield themselves. When that final battle took place, it looked to the Celestials as if the planet was engulfed in a bubble of tightly woven force energy, waiting to burst and wreak destruction. As the last quickening was finally fading, they saw how the planet was ripping itself apart, with mega earthquakes and tsunami's occurring everywhere and the super storm raging across the globe, blowing away and setting to the torch all that it touched.

It was at that moment that the commander of the ship made a decision that would change the landscape of the galaxy for eons to come. While the humans tried to scrape together an escape, living on the dream that they may finally colonise the fourth planet in their system as a last desperate hope, the commander took pity on them. He revealed his ship to humanity and made them an offer. He would take them, and all they could carry to a new planet, far from their isolated system at the edge of the galaxy and very near to the galactic core, close to the borders of the Celestials empire where they would be safe. They gathered all that they could and then took to the stars, the Zhell alliance headed for a new world, already partially inhabited, that would in years to come become known as Coruscant.

But on that lonely planet, devoid of life and devastated, their remained one sole inhabitant. Overlooked by the Celestials, assumed to have been destroyed in that final outburst of force energy, there was one man, one final immortal, buried in a mountain, trapped there, unconscious and unaware, as the eons passed him by.

-End Of Prologue-

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that has been in my mind for years now. The possibilities within both Star Wars and the character of Methos seem to mesh so well in my mind. I've struggled to get the huge story I've envisioned in my mind onto paper for a long time, but hopefelly this works. If you enjoy this story, I simply ask for patience and more than likely a huge amount of grammar corrections.


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